I Am Unworthy
by Catmint
Summary: AU. Arwen was forced to leave for the Undying Lands by Elrond in TTT, leaving behind a broken Aragorn. He has entered into marriage with Eowyn, though he does not love her, and he is dying inside. Please read & review!


I Am Unworthy

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Disclaimer: Aragorn, Éowyn, Éomer, Arwen U, Elrond and Eldarion are not mine. They belong to Tolkien/New Line Cinema/whoever. So don't sue.

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A/N: yes, this is AU. Arwen has been forced to leave Middle-Earth by Elrond, and Aragorn has married Éowyn instead. 

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It is late autumn and the rain falls heavily, relentlessly, over the White City of Gondor, rendering it grey and dull. The clouds are thick, black, menacing and low. Few people are out in weather such as this, and those that are out are only so from absolute necessity.

The weather suits my heart – dismal, dark, any sign of a break or improvement unseen thus far. The only difference is that I know the dark clouds over Gondor will lift and leave, whereas the dark cloud that hangs over my heart will never go. Not even my four children can lift it. 

I rarely see them now. My son Eldarion is fifteen. My three daughters, Arwen, Gilraen and Ivorwen, are thirteen, ten and six respectively. Gilraen is named for my mother, Ivorwen for my maternal grandmother.

Arwen is named for the only one who held my heart, the only one who I truly loved.

The one whom I lost. The Elf who sailed over the Sea to the Undying Lands with her kin at the request of her father, the one who was my foster father for many years. The one who drove us apart and deemed me unworthy of his precious daughter.

The one who shattered my heart irreparably in a few words.

After the destruction of the One Ring and the Dark Lord Sauron, I married Éowyn of Rohan. She had long loved me from afar, despite her knowledge of my love for Arwen Undómiel. It seemed the only suitable match for me, for Éowyn had made her love clear from the start. Yet our union was hard on Éowyn. She once told me, before our departure from Edoras, that being trapped, in a cage, was her only fear. She did not fear battle or death. Only a cage.

Our marriage became that cage which she feared. She knew that I did not ever love her, except perhaps as a sister.

It was a year ago that she left me to live with Éomer, King of Rohan and her beloved brother. Our children remain here in Gondor, with their maid. Gilraen and Ivorwen do not understand the reasons for their mother's departure, and Eldarion is currently more concerned with matters of the equine kind. Arwen, I think, understands, though I have never told her of my Arwen, my Evenstar. And though Éowyn is her mother, unlike her fair-haired sisters, Arwen has dark hair, like that of her brother and of myself.

And of my Evenstar.

I am shaken out of my thoughts by a knock on the door of my room, and I automatically tell whomever it is that they may come in.

It is Éomer, dripping rainwater and forming puddles in the doorway, having just arrived from the torrential downpour. I nod at him, acknowledging is presence. "I was not expecting you," I say.

"This is a hastily-arranged visit. My family knew little of it," replies Éomer.

"Oh?"

His face hardens. "The sole purpose of this visit concerns my sister. Your _wife_, Aragorn. Or had you forgotten that you are married to her?"

"The purpose of your visit surprises me." I cannot prevent the sarcasm from entering my speech.

Éomer sighs. "When did you become so bitter, Aragorn? Why are you so? My sister loves you. You have four children who love you and who are probably wondering if they are ever going to see their mother again." 

I look away, out of the window to the falling rain. "Then I shall arrange for them to leave with you when you return to Rohan, if you wish." I know my tone is dull, emotionless. I have cared for none since I lost my Evenstar.

"That is not what I meant, Aragorn!"

"How is Éowyn?" I ask; though it is more out of politeness and courtesy than genuine interest.

"Unhappy. She misses her children and she misses the old Aragorn, the Aragorn who fought Orcs and Uruk-hai without displaying fear, who led men into successful battle, the Aragorn she fell in love with!" 

I whirl round to face him. "But _I_ never loved _her_! My heart is with Arwen Undómiel, daughter of Elrond Halfelven, and no other!" I am shouting now.

"Arwen is _gone_, Aragorn! She left Middle-Earth over sixteen years ago! You have a wife and four children who need you!"

"I cannot love Éowyn! She means little to me! Perhaps it sounds cruel and unfeeling, but it is the _truth_, Éomer!"

"She told you that she feared only a cage. This marriage to you has _become_ that cage which she so feared. A cage from which she can never escape. One from which she has _no hope_ of _ever_ escaping."

I am silent. How can I possibly make Éomer understand? He has no concept of the love that Arwen and I shared. He does not know the pain I felt when being told in cold, harsh tones by the person I idolised, the person who raised me from a very young age, that I am not, and never will be, worthy of his precious only daughter. I am King Elessar of Gondor, heir of Elendil and Isildur, yet I am unworthy. There are no others, before or since Elrond, whom I have held in such high regard, and he is the one to tell me that I am, and always will be, unworthy. Not good enough. Éomer cannot comprehend that single, brief moment which shattered my world, and heart, for good. Elrond forced me to end my relationship with his daughter for his own selfish reasons. Perhaps I am being harsh on him; he does love his daughter greatly, after all.

But in doing so, he has destroyed two that he loved. And return from the Undying Lands is not possible.

"Aragorn?" says Éomer uncertainly.

I look at him again. "I shall free Éowyn from her cage, Éomer. I shall do so tonight. But first I wish to see my children. I believe you know where to find them."

Éomer smiles slightly. "I do," he answers before leaving the room. I do not move until my four children have joined me. I take the youngest, Ivorwen, in my arms first, and hold her tightly to me. Her fair hair is, as always, half-chewed at the ends. A habit that I hope she will grow out of. "Ivorwen, look after your mother for me," I tell her. "She is to return shortly. And remember that I love you."

"Of course I will look after Mother for you, Father," she replies. "I love both you and her, so I will do as you ask."

I hold Gilraen next. "Look after Ivorwen," I tell her. "And remember that I love you."

"I love you too," she says. "And I will look after Ivorwen."

Next it is Eldarion I hold and I ensure that he knows I love him. "You will make a fine king of Gondor," I add.

He looks confused and I know that he does not understand. "One day, perhaps," he says. At my request he takes the younger girls from the room – the last time I will ever see them – and I embrace my daughter Arwen, the only one who has any true notion as to what is soon to take place.

"I wish to stay with you until you leave us, Father," she says softly.

I nod, aware of tears blurring my vision. "As you wish." She stays with me in my room into the evening. We eat our meal together, discussing trivial, unimportant things. We do not discuss the real reason for her presence. She knows that what she has long feared will soon come to pass.

"Father, do – do you _have_ to leave us?" she asks hesitantly, tears openly falling down her cheeks.

I nod, unable to speak to confirm her worst fear.

"You – you do know that I love you? You – you are not leaving us because you feel that we do not love you?"

I smile through my own tears and lightly kiss her forehead. "That is not the reason, Arwen. I know you all love me. I love you also. I wish for you to have the Evenstar that I wear around my neck, when I have left. It once belonged to the Arwen you were named for – Arwen Undómiel of Rivendell, an Elf and the only daughter of Elrond Halfelven. She passed over the Sea to the Undying Lands before the defeat of Sauron and thus before your mother and I were married. Arwen was the only one to whom my heart truly belonged. Will you take the Evenstar?"

"Of – of course, Father," she whispers, unable to speak any louder because of her tears.

"Thankyou." Taking a deep breath, I remove the vial which I have long kept about my person, from my pocket, and swallow its contents. "Will you stay for my last few minutes?" I ask.

Arwen nods and helps me to lie down on my bed. My heart, already broken, shatters further, far more than I had imagined it able to, at the sight of the daughter I am leaving behind, weeping, distraught. She sits beside me and takes one of my rough, battle-scarred hands in her small soft ones. She kisses my forehead lightly, her tears dampening my face. "Goodbye, Father," she whispers, almost inaudibly.

"Goodbye, Arwen. Thankyou – thankyou for staying."

"Hush now," she says gently. As my mind begins to grow fuzzy and my eyes to close for the final time, she starts to sing to me, an Elvish song which I taught her when she was a small child. I love Arwen, my favourite daughter. I am glad of her company, and I whisper this to her. They are to be my final words.

My hearing fades as the blackness claims me for its own, for ever.

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~End~


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